The Busy Bean
by potterbite
Summary: Captain Swan coffee shop!au. Need I say more?
1. Chapter One

_A/N: HI! This was done as a Captain Swan secret santa gift for the lovely snowqueenemma. Since it grew larger than I first intended to, it will be a multi chaptered fic. Merry Christmas everyone!_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter One.<strong>

The first time he entered The Busy Bean Emma Swan almost did a double take as she was headed towards the back of the shop.

It wasn't that they never had good looking customers there; Manhattan was filled with a ridiculous amount of people, and some of them were bound to give up Starbucks for the more homey feeling The Busy Bean (and others like it) offered. But there was something about him, something that intrigued her in a way she didn't really want to be intrigued; nothing good ever came out of feeling like that.

Luckily for her she was able to stop herself from looking like a complete goon and continued to the back as if nothing had happened. As if she didn't want to go back and just _stare_at the poor man for all eternity. But no. She wasn't _that_ kind of a business woman. She was a professional that just happened to stand by the fridges in the back, pounding her head in light thumps against the cold surface, trying to wish away her desire to see if the stranger still was there – which was why she waited for as long as she could before heading out to the front again. So maybe it took her a few minutes longer than usual to bring out three packages of milk. Sue her.

When she came back, she almost sighed in relief when she couldn't see the man, which was closely followed by the desire to hit her head again. _You do not latch on to innocent strangers_, she thought. _You do not get to be so attracted to someone that you can't behave as a functional human being_.

She continued to chant the sentences a few times in her head and was only interrupted by Ruby waving a hand in front of her face.

"Hello, earth to Emma?" There was a sly grin on her face, and if Emma didn't know any better she would think Ruby could read minds – which, wow, that would be very inappropriate on so many levels.

"Sorry," Emma replied, running a hand through her hair before picking up a cloth to clean of the counter, very firmly deciding not to meet her friend's eyes.

She and Ruby had met right after Emma got out of prison thirteen years earlier, and while Emma did not regret a second of that friendship she did know how Ruby worked; if she, heaven forbid, saw something in Emma that even looked remotely like attraction to a real human being, she'd latch on to it with all she had. After thirteen years and what felt like a million blind dates Emma did not want to involve Ruby in _that_ part of her life anymore until she had to. "What were you saying?"

Ruby's grin spread wider. "Henry called to say he were heading to Jessica's and that he's going to eat dinner with them. He wanted to make sure you were okay eating alone." She paused to tap a finger to her lips, and Emma knew she was screwed; Ruby always looked very much like a wolf planning her attack on the next prey whenever she thought of a plan – plans that always seemed to involve Emma in one way or another. "I'm thinking you might want to grab a bite to eat with Killian though."

Emma frowned. "Who the hell is Killian?"

"That ridiculously hot guy that made you stumble over your own feet until your forehead met the floor."

"I did _not_– " Emma hissed, but stopped herself when she saw the expression on her friend's face. Of course Ruby hadn't seen Emma fall over, because it hadn't actually happened. "You are an evil genius and I kind of hate you." She frowned. "How do you know his name?"

Ruby shrugged. "I had to know, it was just a hunch. A very good hunch though, I might add. And please, you adore the ground I walk on." She smacked Emma with a cloth of her own very lightly, laughter in her eyes. "And I know everything. Stop asking stupid questions," she grinned, before turning around to greet the waiting customer.

Emma shook her head at nothing in particular and started to make the cappuccino ordered. It wasn't as if she'd ever see the man again – given the million people living in Manhattan, the odds of that same man setting his foot inside The Busy Bean ever again were slim to none. But that was okay, and it didn't make Emma feel gloomy at all. Nope.

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><p>The man, Killian Jones, came back, though. The very next day, actually, when Emma had just opened up he walked through the door as if he'd been doing it his whole life. Since she had put Ruby on coffee making duties that morning, she was forced to greet him with a smile, no matter how much she wanted to hide in the back, safe from any and all inappropriate emotions. (<em>Jesus Christ, I'm fifteen again<em>, she thought bitterly).

"Good morning," she began, swallowing down whatever emotion that wanted to be released. (_Get a grip_). "What can I get you?"

"Regular coffee, no milk, thank you," he replied without looking up from the wallet that he had picked up from his pocket, and if she melted into a puddle on the floor when she heard his voice – well, that would be between her and herself.

In the corner of her eye she saw Ruby starting to fill a paper cup with his order, a small smirk on her lips but no words leaving her. Emma ignored her friend.

"Okay. Anything else?"

"No, that's fine, love." He handed her a twenty dollar bill and took the beverage from the counter as soon as Ruby had put it there, leaving the shop before Emma even had the chance to give him his money back – which was quite a lot considering they only charged two dollars for a regular coffee. She stared at the bill in her hand in awe, wondering what it was like to be able to hand out that much money and not even think about it.

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><p>Soon, he became a regular at Emma's little place. He always came in at the same time and never changed his order, not even to add a biscuit or to put some milk in his coffee. No, it was always a coffee, black, to go.<p>

It wasn't until the fifth time he came in (not that she kept count) that she noticed that what she had thought to be his left hand were, in fact, just a prosthetic. He saw her look at it, so she didn't want to comment on it, despite the fact that she were dying of curiosity.

(Sometimes, other customers would stare at him as if he held the world in his hand and Ruby would only smirk when Emma wondered why. She didn't think it had to do with him only having one hand, because the looks held more adoration than disgust, which was at least something; she'd hate to have to snipe at her costumers for being rude.)

She wasn't sure how to engage in conversation with him, so she stuck with the safe questions – 'What will it be today?' or 'Wow, it's really pouring outside today' – and usually didn't get more than the occasional smile. He barely looked up from the counter, as if afraid to meet the eyes of anyone around him.

One morning, he didn't show up. As the day progressed Emma started to worry, like she might do if Ruby failed to show up at work, or if Henry didn't come home at the time he said he would. It had been over two months of Killian coming in to buy his morning coffee and he had not yet missed a single day up until now; she just _knew_ something was off.

She was alone, just a few short minutes before closing time, when the bell chimed at the door.

"Sorry, I'm just about to – " She froze as she turned around and saw Killian standing there, looking as if he was about to fall apart any second. She couldn't see his face as his gaze was directed at his feet, but everything about him screamed _help_.

"Coffee, black, to go?" she said instead, not wanting to send him away when he looked as if he'd rather sleep on the floor of her little shop than leave right now.

He nodded, stiff and small, and went further inside to plop himself down at one of the tables before taking off his rather large coat, putting it neatly right next to his seat. Nodding to herself she took the largest cup she had and filled it with two thirds of coffee, before opening a locked cabinet beneath the counter where she kept some booze for herself and Ruby – emergencies only – and poured rum into the cup until it was full, because the only other thing she had was vodka and she guessed that rum would taste better together with the hot beverage than lemon flavored spirits would.

She walked over and put the cup in front of him without saying a word and then went back to stand behind the imaginary safety of the counter. She started to wipe of the surface despite the fact that she'd already done it six times in the past half hour.

He didn't speak, but she saw the small smile on his lips as he took a sip from his cup and she had to hide one of her own. He left her a twenty dollar bill – like he had done that first time – half an hour later and mumbled a goodnight as he headed out into the cold evening air. Emma sighed and sat down on one of the closest chairs.

She frowned as she thought about his mood this evening, and wondered what had gotten him so down. Perhaps a quarrel with a lover, or maybe lost his dog. (She hoped for the latter, but knew it was more likely to be the former.)

She still wasn't sure why he still intrigued her so much, and she was sure she would go crazy before she found out. It troubled her, like an itch she couldn't scratch, but she knew none of it would matter since she didn't want any sort of commitment at all at the moment. Or, well, she wanted to, of course she did, but she knew it was a lot of hassle and heart ache for a short period of happiness that never lasted no matter how much you wanted it to, so why bother at all?

Her train of thought was interrupted by her phone buzzing in the pocket of her jeans and she fished it up.

"Henry?"

"Mom! Where are you?"

"I'm still at the bean."

"It's closer to nine pm, I was getting worried."

Shocked, the lifted her wrist to look at her own clock and saw that Henry was indeed right.

"Sorry, time flew away from me, kid."

"That's okay, Eileen left just a few minutes ago."

Eileen were their next door neighbor, an old lady who kept on insisting to cook Henry dinner on the nights Emma had to close up and it worked out well for all of them.

He didn't sound upset with her, so she breathed a relieved sigh. "I'm closing up this second!" She headed to the back to grab her coat and purse, before darting to the door, keys in a hard grip.

"Good. We left you some fries she made. You're going to need it before I kick your ass at Fifa."

She grinned as she locked the door and put on her gloves, one hand at a time. "Language! And you wish. See you soon."

She tightened the coat around her body as she headed for the subway. She never had liked the cold very much, not even as a child, because that meant Christmas was only a few months away – and she wasn't that fond of Christmas. She always made an effort for Henry, and she didn't carry the same dislike for it as she had growing up, but it still made her hurt thinking about all the kids spending their Christmases just as she had; alone and with not enough clothes to shield themselves from the cold.

She started to wonder how Killian would spend his Christmas this year, and found herself imagining him laughing, arms around his wife and beautiful children. She pressed down the sense of jealousy that popped up just as the subway stopped at her station, and promised herself that she would not think about Killian – someone she didn't even know, for heaven's sake – for the entire weekend she had off.

(As she went to bed a few hours later, her thoughts drifted to him again. She cursed and put a pillow over her face, hoping to drown out the image of his smile.)

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><p><em>AN: Reviews make life easier! And come say hi on tumblr, I'm Oncestifer!_


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two.**

Killian came back at his usual hour the very next day, just as Emma had finished putting out the freshly made sandwiches and toasts. She – or Ruby, depending on who started first that day – made them herself every single morning just before opening up and they were usually all sold out by the end of the day.

She peeked at him through the glass doors that were between the food and the costumers, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, and attempted to determine if he still was in a foul mood or not.

"Hello," he said as he came up to the counter, and she wondered for a second if he would pretend last night never happened.

"Hi." She gave him the same smile she gave all the costumers, bent on not singling him out like some creep – like she had been doing since he first came in. "The usual?" She reached for a paper cup, promptly not looking at the way his hair fell over his forehead, clearly not having been combed this morning.

"Aye," he nodded. He handed her too much money as per usual, but didn't move away after receiving his coffee so she let the bill lay there. Since there were no other costumers currently waiting in line, she figured it was as good of an excuse as any to look at him, so she met his already waiting eyes, feeling like they saw much more than she wanted to share.

"I – " He scratched himself behind his right ear in what could only be described at the cutest gesture of uncomfortableness Emma had ever witnessed, but she kept her face neutral. "I wanted to thank you for last night. It was a rough one for me, and I realize you could've kicked me out had you wished to."

Surprised, she raised her eyebrows. "You're welcome." She poured a small cup of coffee for herself, not able to resist as the fumes from Killian's beverage insisted on seeping its way into her nose. "I am curious, though. Why would I kick someone out that just wants a hot beverage?"

"You did more than that, love."

"Yeah, I gave you some liquor because you looked like you needed some." She shrugged and took a sip from her cup, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of it than it had been. Truth be told, she would've treated anyone else exactly the same – she even had an evening a month where she let homeless people and others who couldn't afford a coffee have what they wanted for free, and she or Ruby always went by the shelter down the street to leave the leftover food that wouldn't last until the next day after closing up.

The fact that it had been someone she'd been a pile of goo over for the past two months had only been an added bonus.

"No matter, it was kind and I appreciate it." Taking a sip from his coffee, he turned to leave.

"Wait," she said, just knowing she couldn't let him out of her sight until she knew. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you since you first came here, but there's never really been a right time for it, because I don't want to sound like I don't appreciate it."

Killian sighed, his shoulders heaving up and down in a slow motion as if steeling himself for the question she was about to ask. He gave her a small smile that did not reach his eyes. "Ask all you want, I believe I am an open book."

She took the ten dollar bill from the counted with her fingers and held it up. "Why are you always giving me a ridiculous amount of money when you just buy a coffee?"

He frowned deep. "What?"

She made a grimace. "Well, I only charge a few bucks for my drinks so ten would be one hell of a tip. You've handed me a twenty dollar bill, too, and you always leave before I can give you your change back."

He laughed. "Was that all you wanted to ask me?"

"Well – yes. I know it might be inappropriate for some, but I just have to know."

"I don't find it inappropriate at all, it was just unexpected. And I didn't realize I did that if I'm being quite honest with you."

Now Emma laughed, feeling like her grin might split her face in two halves. "You must have a lot of money then, not to notice. Mind sharing your occupation? It might be more lucrative for me to change my trade."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "My occupation? You don't – " He paused, before a smile spread over his face. "I'm a former baker of cookies and other sweets, actually. Nowadays I mostly write the recipes for others."

"That sounds like fun, though. I always wished I had learned to bake like that, but I'm stuck with my delicious bread baking skills." She shrugged. "Or so my son tells me."

"I'm inclined to agree with him then."

"You've tasted it? I don't remember that."

"Ah, I believe I bought that from the other girl who's here most of the time. Tall, with brown hair."

Emma nodded. "Ruby."

Killian agreed, before looking down at the golden clock he wore around his left wrist – or what was technically not his wrist, but looked authentic enough to be, just like the rest of the hand did – and swore silently, but loud enough for her to overhear. "It seems I have to run." He made a quick wave and was out through the door before Emma even had the time to open her mouth.

Not even three seconds later, Ruby came out from the back with her usual grin plastered on her face. "It would seem you have some explaining to do, Miss Swan."

Emma rolled her eyes. "How long have you been hiding back there?"

"Hiding?" Ruby made a shocked facial expression, putting a hand over her heart to make it more dramatic. "I cannot believe you would suggest such a thing. I was sorting the spices in alphabetical order, so you're welcome."

Emma scoffed. "I only own three different sorts of spices."

"And I sorted them with great delicacy. Now spill!"

"There's nothing to spill about."

"Oh, right, and what was all that 'thank you for last night' thing about then?"

Emma laughed at Ruby's imitation of Killian. "You really shouldn't be allowed to do an English accent, it's horrible."

Ruby crossed her arms across her chest. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"It really was nothing. He came in here looking like hell and I gave him a cup of coffee with some liquor in it. We didn't even talk for the whole time he was here."

Ruby grinned. "I'm sure Mr. Jones can be chatty when he wants to, as we just saw." She bit her lip. "I wonder if he's the talkative one during sex, too."

Emma smacked her friend on the arm even as she snickered. "Stop it, there are kids in here!"

Ruby only shrugged, and stepped in to take the new customer before Emma had the chance to do it herself.

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><p>From then on, it got a little bit easier every time Killian came by; she no longer felt like a stalker for asking about his day or what book he currently read (he told her he was just rereading Peter Pan by J.M Barrie, a gleam in his eyes as he spoke and she didn't quite understand why).<p>

He would ask her about her day, or what she was planning for Christmas. It was small things, but made Emma feel like she'd made a friend nonetheless.

(A friend she happened to be extremely attracted to, but that was neither here nor there.)

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><p>Every now and then, Killian would stay at the coffeehouse to drink his coffee instead of taking it to go. When he did, he always chose a table close to the windows and kept his gaze outwards, almost as if not even aware of the people around him; like he, for just a moment, would wish them all to vanish.<p>

Henry came running through the doors one afternoon just as Killian had sat down and taken of his big coat. (It didn't exactly get any warmer as winter got closer, and Emma found herself wanting a jacket that looked equally warm to his.)

"Hey mom!" Henry all but shouted as soon as he was inside, setting his backpack on the floor right by the counter.

"Hey kid." She smiled. "I didn't know you were coming to see me. What about school?"

He shrugged. "Last class cancelled. I think she got the flu or something." He let his eyes wander the rather small room filled with people. "Quite a lot of costumers today. Think you have time – Oh my God!" He practically squealed and left Emma alone in less than a second – only to go stand in front of Killian's table.

She could only gapingly stare from afar as Killian gestured for Henry to join him at his table.

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><p>When Killian left, after spending the better part of half an hour chatting with Henry, Emma bewildered staring at them as she took orders from other costumers, Henry went up to Emma with a smile and her confusion only deepened.<p>

"Henry, how do you know Killian?"

Henry widened his eyes, looking at her as if she were the stupidest person to ever walk in a pair of shoes. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. And don't tell me you don't know him, you don't chat with strangers for that long."

Henry grinned wide. "Mom, that was Killian Jones."

"Yes, I am aware of that." With no awaiting costumers in sight, she sat down on the stool by the register, waiting for her son to get to the point – which sometimes took a while, as he easily got caught up in small details when telling a story.

"Are you – do you really not know who he is?"

"What? Some celebrity on of the shows you watch?"

He shook his head. "I can't believe you don't know." He reached for his backpack on the floor and opened it to dig through it. He pulled up a package of cookies from 'Pirate's booty' – a very popular brand among kids and at every Starbucks in the country; heck even Emma sold some at her place – holding it out for her to take.

She accepted it with a shrug. "Why are you giving me cookies? You do know I sell _some_ here, right?"

"Look at the back."

She flipped the bag over in her hands and saw the table of contents and a neat description of how the cookie's had been captured at sea by the most vicious pirate of them all, a cartoon of said pirate right next to it. It looked like a version of Captain Hook as a small child in a striped shirt in light blue and white, a red hat and a mischievous grin all over his small face.

"Cute," she commented and Henry sighed, reaching over the counter to point at the bottom of the bag.

"What does it say there?"

She lifted the bag closer to her eyes. "Pirate's booty is a privately owned company and does in no way affiliate with real life pirates." She chuckled.

"Go on," Henry prompted.

"Killian Jones, founder, has –" She looked back at the name again to see if she had read it correctly, because it couldn't be –

Henry snickered. "I'm glad you're not a detective, because you would suck at it."

Still shocked, she didn't comment on his language. "But – but – there must be more than one Killian Jones. How do you even know it's him?"

Henry rolled his eyes so far back she thought they might get stuck there. "His face is on all of the boxes."

She could feel the color slowly disappearing from her face as she looked down at her feet, wondering how long it would take to dig a hole there deep enough to hide in forever. She had deliveries of various cookies from Pirate's booty every Wednesday that always came in those boxes and she kept her own stock in at least three cupboards in their apartment for when she were on her period and craved something sweet. She'd been eating those cookies since they first came out, feeling like they were a blessing from heaven when she first tasted the chocolate chip ones.

She let her head fall to the counter, remembering her conversation with Killian a few weeks back when she'd asked him about his job and he'd said he was a former baker.

Henry was right; she'd really be the worst detective ever.


End file.
